The Most Important Lesson
by darkmorsmordreheart
Summary: S&M. The most important lesson Sam ever learned and would ever learn was exactly how to be Mercedes Jones' man.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** So I wrote this a few days ago… It'll probably be a two-shot. Please, give an opinion. I need them because I kinda know where this is going, but… Idk. I'll just stick it in the M-rating just because. Anyway, this is what I would have liked to entitle "Hey bitch who used to talk down to me all the time and now, years later, you can't say shit because I was beautiful all along and you were just jealous and insecure and I got this beautiful man who would never look twice at your ass so Pow! in your face, Honey boo-boo child!" but unfortunately that's too long and it really has nothing to do with the main theme of the story. Le sigh. _**–DMH**_

_I don't own Glee or the _I Can't Help Falling in Love _lines I paraphrased._

oO0Oo

_The Most Important Lesson_

oO0Oo

Wise men say only fools rush in, but Sam Evans truly couldn't help it.

Mercedes Jones was a force; she always had been and she persevered to remain so. Her body was short and thick – sturdy, she called herself, and Sam understood why. In his worse times, he could curl himself around her, ground himself in her steadiness when everything else was falling apart. He had done it in high school when his family lost their home and he had done it in college when they lost his father. And she always welcomed him with warm arms wide open and small hands ready to sweep away every tear he wished to hide.

He spent many a night in his dorm room learning what a force she was. He admired her, was inspired to be a better person because of her and she was always teaching him something new. Whether it was staying up all night on her Xbox or studying or making love or talking about their future together, he learned how to be a man in the process of learning to be _Mercedes' man_. And that would remain the most important lesson he ever learned.

Her voice alone had enough power to bring him to his knees, whether with a whisper or a shout and every song she sang to him was gospel – no one could tell him she wasn't singing him the truth. Her feelings were always evident in her song, her soul was unmistakably in her range – higher and higher and higher it flew. All consuming in matters of his heart.

She was his tsunami, his hurricane, his earthquake, a godly creation that swooped up his natural disaster of a life, like a miracle, and made everything better all of the time.

So when he awoke in the middle of the night, rolled over to cuddle with his fiancé and found her sitting at the edge of their bed, sniffling and sobbing into her fist, he knew he had failed.

"Baby," he rasped, instantly hating himself for his sleep-roughened voice because she jumped at least a foot into the air before turning to him. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Baby, what's wrong?"

She rubbed at her cheeks and reached over to turn on the lamp on the nightstand. Her puffy red eyes told him that her tears had been going on for a longer time than the forced smile on her face wanted him to believe and he cursed himself silently again. He immediately crawled to her side of the bed and wrapped himself around her; her back to his front, his legs cradling hers, his face pressed to the side of her own.

"Tell me, baby. Please?" he begged, squeezing her around the middle tight even as she hunched her back in what felt like an attempt to get away from him. "Please?"

"I got a… phone call… About an hour ago. My granddaddy's gone," she whispered between shuddering intakes of air.

He slept through her tears for an hour? "I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. Why didn't you wake me up?" She shrugged and he turned her in his arms until she was curled on her side, cradled against his chest. "Mercedes?"

She sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. I just didn't want to wake you."

"Jesus… Wake me up whenever you want to, okay? And especially wake me up when you need to. Do you know how scared I was waking up to you crying in the dark?" Her next small voiced apology broke his heart and he made a mental note to berate himself later for guilt-tripping her at a time like this. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Do you need to talk?"

She sniffed and shook her head. "Just keep holding me like this."

Yes. _Yes_. He could do this.

oO0Oo

Her father's side of the family was not something she often talked about.

In fact, she only brought up the subject while consulting her Maid of Honor and wedding planner about the seating arrangement. As many times as the three women had shuffled and debated and rearranged the orders, Sam noticed that the Jones clan was usually situated farthest away from the Bride and Groom's table as possible.

Mercedes never introduced him to anyone from her father's side and the more he thought about it, the more he thought it strange that he never felt the urge to ask her about them. Perhaps it was because of the size and boisterous nature of her mother's family. They were loud, they were large, they were gracious and they were too much. It would be easy to forget she had other relatives when he already knew all twenty-three of her cousins and their parents and their kids.

So when she told him that they were going to West Virginia to go to her grandfather's funeral, he was somewhat surprised. He didn't even know she had family in West Virginia.

"It'll only be for two or three days, Sammy," she told him as they packed the morning of their flight – as if trying to convince him to go with her regardless of the fact that he had already said yes two days ago. "They're having the wake at the family's original church, but the funeral will be at the church in Charleston. So it's good we got that hotel reservation, right?"

"Yeah, we don't need to inconvenience anyone by staying in their house, if that's what you mean," he said, tossing a few pairs of socks into her bag because he knew she would forget otherwise. What she muttered sounded somewhat affirmative, but he dropped the slacks he was folding anyway and rounded the bed to pull her into his arms. There was just something about her voice… She confirmed Sam's suspicions by crumpling against him immediately, abandoning all attempts to remain the cool-headed pillar of productiveness she had been for the last couple days. She had been determined to keep herself busy and to stay on top of things and it killed Sam that she never once stopped. "Talk to me."

"Not right now, baby. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed for possibly the fifth time since the night before. "When should we talk?"

As he could have predicted, she yanked away from him and moved back to their luggage. "I don't know," she said with a heavy sigh. "I just don't want to talk about it right now, Sam. I'm busy – We're too busy for this! We should have packed last night. And please put this in something; you're not folding your suit and stuffing it in a suitcase."

He took the offending pieces of clothing from the arm she had thrust into his direction and did not say another word on the subject.

She was cool towards him during the trip to the airport and somehow, once they got onto the plane, into seats that forced them in even closer proximity, she seemed even more distant. He could have been a stranger for all she cared and his theory was only proven when a young stewardess attempted to flirt with him after giving him a drink. He glanced towards Mercedes, who was gazing absently out the window, and grabbed her hand, intertwining her fingers with his, flashing her ring to the flight attendant and politely shooing her away. After that, Mercedes leaned into his shoulder, but didn't stop watching the clouds until they landed.

oO0Oo

"Oh my God, where are we? Why is it so dark?" whined Sam as he attempted to cruise their little rental up and over the mountains of West Virginia. She giggled at him and assured him that she knew exactly where they were and where they were going. "But how? There are no street lights here. You're leading us straight to the Deliverance people, I can tell."

"Hush," she chided, placing a hand on his knee. "Just keep a look out for a red marker on the side of – there it is! Turn left." He followed her instruction and suddenly they were in civilization again, no matter how meager it appeared. A singular streetlamp stood in front of a small white building lighting their way and illuminating a long row of cars, each parked more haphazardly in a gravel lot than the last.

He carefully parked their rental next to an old Buick and she was quick to climb out. All the amusement at Sam's freak out in the car that had colored her expression up to this point had vanished as she muttered, "We're so late. We probably missed everything. Come on! Come on!"

She practically dragged him to the tiny church, an action that made him both anxious and impressed him (due to her apparent talent in walking over extremely unleveled ground in high heels). She stopped him from opening the door for her, opting to straighten his tie and fix his hair instead.

"Alright already," he said, pulling her hands away. "Let's go."

He opened the door, followed her inside, noting absently that it was clear that they had indeed missed whatever service there had been and suddenly he felt something he hadn't felt since high school: the sensation of being on a stage for the first time with hundreds of eyes on him… Or the first time he realized he was the only white guy in a room full of people.

He didn't think they were that loud upon entering the church, but that lack of noise did not seem a factor in the turning of every head in their direction. Even the people standing in the aisle, other latecomers to the wake, had turned to stare at the couple. He took a moment to consider his own paranoia towards meeting his fiancé's family for the first time, but when Mercedes' shaking hand took his own, he was assured that she felt the same sensation that he did.

However, the moment they walked up the aisle and got into the queue for the viewing, Sam's attention was snatched away from the whispers and stares… Mercedes was already crying.

It started with a few silent tears. She gripped his hand a bit tighter. They took a step forward and she sniffled daintily. He offered her his handkerchief, commending himself for having the sense to even bring it and she accepted it with a tiny smile, beautiful and sad. They took another step forward and she gasped. Closer and closer to the casket, they travelled, her cries growing into sobs as she attempted to hide her increasing hysteria behind a square of cotton.

Sam wrapped an arm around her waist when it was their turn to view her grandfather. Suddenly, her body refused to budge any further, so he set his mouth into a grim line of determination and pushed her towards the coffin.

"Granddaddy," she whispered thickly, reaching out to stroke a finger along a deep wrinkle on an ashen brown cheek. "I love you." She let go of Sam's hand to bend forward and drop a kiss on the cooled forehead. "'Til we meet again."

Sam followed behind her as they walked to the pews, practically rushing to keep up with her fast pace. He frowned when he saw her choose a seat towards the back, behind everyone else, but said nothing as he took the seat next to her and pulled her into his arms. He rocked them back and forth as she sobbed into his shoulder, pressing kisses into her hair, stroking a hand up and down her back – anything to calm her. With her cries reduced back into little sniffles, he took over handkerchief duty and carefully wiped her tear streaks away.

A hand suddenly clasped him on the shoulder, accompanied by the booming voice of Dr. Isaiah Jones, "Sam, good to see you guys made it. Is my baby doing better?"

"Mommy!" Mercedes suddenly gasped, shooting out of her seat and into her mother's arms. Sam tossed a grateful smile towards his future father-in-law for waiting until he had calmed Mercedes down to approach them as he stood and shook the man's hand.

"Yeah, she's doing a little better, but you know how she likes to keep things to herself."

Isaiah nodded as he stared over Sam's shoulder towards his wife and daughter, a frown further deepening the grooves of wrinkles in his dark forehead. "Sounds like my Mercy. Always worrying about not worrying others."

"Exactly," agreed Sam. They stood in silence for a moment, just watching their girls, but internally Sam was debating whether he should bring something up with Isaiah or not.

Just when he opened his mouth to address Isaiah, the other man said, "She's going to need you, Sam. She's going to make you feel like she doesn't, but she does and you need to make her realize that. Now take her over to see her grandmother."

"Uh… Yessir."

Though she was surrounded by people and despite Sam never laying eyes on her before, Mercedes' grandmother was easy to spot and easy to recognize. She was in her seventies, thin with skin the color of the pages of a worn, old novel. That light skin hung and sagged on her frame in a way that made Sam somewhat fearful that any sudden movement could send those sharp bones ripping it apart like old paper. Her hair swung long and thick behind her, in a braid of silver and brown. Her head was tilted away from them, her chin held high in what looked like its preferred position, her lips set in a firm frown no matter who was saying something to her or what was being said.

She did not look nice.

He couldn't help but think that there was no likeness to Mercedes as his fiancé led him to her, but when she turned to the couple and when the old woman's eyes met his, he _knew_ the resemblance. The matriarch's brown gaze froze him rigid with a power he initially attributed only to Mercedes. She looked at him like she knew everything about him and she looked like she had the authority to judge him for it. Without this woman in her blood, Mercedes surely wouldn't be the same force he knew her as.

"Hi Mamma," Mercedes greeted with a small smile. The matriarch didn't stand from her pew in the front row, only reached her arms up to receive her grandchild's hug and kiss. She smiled briefly, an uneasy curve of lips that Sam thought she should put more practice into and she said, "Who are you, girl? And who is this man?"

"I'm Isaiah's baby? Mercedes?" The woman nodded sharply at the reminder and turned her chin to Sam. "And this is Sam Evans, my fiancé."

Mamma then looked him up and down in such a way that he felt like a cockroach covered in horseshit voting Republican. Then she sighed, "Alright. So it's _y'alls_ wedding we going to at the end of summer, hmm?"

"Yes ma'am," he said after a Mercedes' elbow-shaped pain bloomed in his side. He stepped forward and held his hand out to her. "It's very nice to meet you, ma'am."

Her hand, slender and fragile, wrapped around his and tugged him closer with a strength he should have expected. "Your voice got a twang – Where you from?"

"Tennessee. Born and raised in Nashville," he replied with a smile that only widened upon seeing the slight approval in her eyes.

"Southern boy? I like that. I like him. You got real pretty girl," she told Mercedes, her gaze gaining even more approval. Sam was surprised at the quick change of subject and the speed in which words were racing from her mouth. He wasn't used to people talking so fast. "Like your pretty mother – Did you see Natasha here with your daddy?"

"Thank you, Mamma, and yes I saw her a few minutes ago."

"Good, good. You two come sit next to me now – Ant! Get up! Your cousin needs a seat."

"Oh! That's alright!" Mercedes said, apologizing with her eyes to her cousin Ant, a tall man with eyes like hers. Sam chuckled at her resigned expression as they settled in next to her grandmother. The woman had Mercedes' hand clutched tight between both of hers and brought their joined hands to her lips.

"You got hands like my mother," Mamma said absently before snapping back from her memories to call out, "Earl! Earl! Come say hi to Isaiah's baby! Earl, you remember this girl? You remember? She had them lil' afro puffs, her 'n Alexus?"

A sea of family members parted and Earl, who was an older gentleman that Sam saw a lot of Mercedes' father in, shuffled forward with a cane in one hand and a young woman on his other arm. "That sho' is Mercy! C'mere girl!"

Mercedes leapt up obediently and wrapped her arms around the man with a bright smile "Hi, Uncle Early!" Then she turned to the young lady, a tall, lean woman with chocolate skin like hers, and the authenticity diminished in her smile. In a flat voice, Mercedes said, "Hi Lexus."

Sam frowned and moved to stand, but a bony hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to Mamma, who gave him a wicked smile and leaned forward to tell him, "Watch this."

"Mercedes," the woman, Alexus, purred. "I see you're looking well. Did you lose a little weight? _A little_?"

Sam couldn't see his fiancé's expression, but he could see the squaring of her shoulders which made his own body tense.

"Actually no, Lexus, I didn't," Mercedes replied coolly, tracing a hand up her thigh until it settled on her waist. "I guess I must be vain, wanting to keep my curves. _You know_?"

Alexus nodded like she knew, but her twiggy legs, boyish hips and pursed lips said otherwise. She crossed her arms, frowning briefly when Mercedes mirrored the action and purposely pushed up her generous chest. "Well, that's nice, I suppose. So, Daddy tells me you're getting married, _cuz_," she said through her teeth as her fake smile grew smug. She made a show of having to look around Mercedes' body, glancing everywhere behind her, but somehow managing not to catch Sam's glare and she asked, "So where is the lucky groom? He didn't want to come down with you? Shame."

Mamma's hand dropped from his arm and he felt a moment of kinsmanship with the Kraken as he leapt out of his seat and wrapped an arm around his love. With a crooked grin, he held out his hand to Alexus and told her, "I'm Mercy's fiancé, Sam. Nice to meet you."

She was only an inch or two shorter than he was, but she sure took her time meeting his eyes. He fought to keep the frown off his face at her disrespectful leering of him and, after she released his hand, he had to resist the urge to wipe it clean across his pant leg.

"Nice to meet you, too. I'm Alexus. So, I guess we're going to be _cousin-in-laws_," she told him with a cute grin and a giggle.

With his own grin, he said, "Technically, but I don't think that's something anyone really says anymore, so I guess not."

As the smile melted from her cousin's face, Mercedes tugged him down and kissed the shell of his ear. "Sam, this is my Uncle Earl. He's Daddy's older brother."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Sam said as he received a firm handshake by the grinning man.

"Nice to meet you, too! Sam, right?" And as if a spotlight had been shined on him, every single family member and friend was walking up to Sam, introducing themselves with thick accents and fast words, shaking his hand, telling him how lucky he was to have himself a Jones girl and congratulating them both with kisses and hugs that initially felt foreign, but ultimately became familiar.

When they finally sat down next to Mamma, Mercedes was in tears again.

"Girl, are you pregnant?" Mamma asked sternly, glaring over her granddaughter's bowed head at an alarmed Sam.

"No ma'am," she whispered, careful to bow her head and avoid the other woman's eyes.

Suddenly, a knowing look softened Mamma's sharp features. She pulled Mercedes into her bony arms, kissed her hair and rocked her slowly. Sam thought the gesture looked so easy, like something practiced more regularly than Mamma's smiles. How many times had Mercedes been rocked in those arms as a little girl with afro puffs?

"Aww, baby," Mamma sighed and she took Sam's offered handkerchief to wipe Mercedes' fresh tears away. "We missed you, too."

oO0Oo

**A/N:** Next chapter whenever. Kanye-shrug to the fullest. _**–DMH**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** You may thank my shitty internet connection last night for this chapter. If it happens again tonight, I may just have to start the next chapter of _Dogs Don't Know It's Not Bacon_. Sam is so clumsy in this, by the way. Bless his heart. Also, Mercedes shall attend Ohio State in just about every fic I write because my school is glorious and eff a Cleveland State. _**–DMH**_

oO0Oo

The first time Sam had ever heard her cry in the shower was when he was nineteen years old.

It had been a warm night in Ohio, rare and fleeting. The semester was nearing its end, but finals were not yet upon them, so Ohio State's campus was full of laughter and fun times. Couples strolled across the Oval, groups of frat boys trudged up and down High Street and a house party bloomed on every corner. Mercedes insisted on taking him to one of the parties with a group of her friends. They laughed, they played and they drank.

And for whatever stupid reason, Sam's intoxicated mind had decided to pick a fight about a male friend of Mercedes' that had been a smidgen too familiar with his girlfriend. The resulting argument was epic, made long and dragged out because they had to walk home together. Jose Cuervo kept whispering in his ear, telling him that he needed to have the last word, so when they slammed into his apartment, uncaring if they woke up either of his roommates, he got it by asking, "Do you have any idea of how embarrassing it is to have other guys see _my girlfriend _hanging all over another dude like that? You made me look stupid!"

"So now you're embarrassed to be with me?" she snapped back, kicking her shoes off so hard that they hit the far wall with a violent thud.

"Yeah! I am!"

Sam would always remember the look she gave him. Her tiredness darkened her eyes, her humiliation tightened her jaw, disappointment birthed a shake in her fisted hands and her chest rose and fell heavily because of the sensation of being overwhelmed. Her eyes were only on him for a second – two at the most – just enough to make something in the pit of his stomach clench and shiver ice cold, and then she announced she was going to take a shower.

"Well… I'm going to bed!" Jose insisted he say. The next half an hour was the longest of his life. His bedroom was next to the bathroom, an unfortunate arrangement up to this point because the flushing toilet had often woke him, but that night it was sheer torture. He was an idiot. As he lay in his bed, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling and growing more sober by the minute, he could hear her through the thin walls, turning on the water and trying not to let her sobs get any louder than the shower spray. He was an idiot. He could only imagine what she looked like; standing under the harsh rush of water – the apartment's plumbing sucked – her arms wrapped around her middle, her feelings streaming down her cheeks and into the drain where they could pretend that they had come out of the showerhead, too, and weren't just the result of a fool's idiotic words. He was an idiot. With a final sniffle, the water shut off and he had to quickly wipe his cheeks dry before she entered the room, one of his large gray towels wrapped around her.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he remembered whispering weakly after her eyes met his and widened upon seeing him still awake. "I'm an idiot."

Even after a long conversation with her about why implying your girlfriend was a slut was just as bad as calling her a slut – even as she sat in his lap, curled up, wet and only wearing a towel while they exchanged kisses that tasted faintly of tequila and generously of regret – even when she told him that she forgave him and he promised never to be so stupid, he knew he was still an idiot. It took weeks for her to forgive him for that night, months for him to forgive himself.

And as he now lay in this Charleston Embassy Suites, staring at the ceiling, listening to her sobs attempt to hide themselves behind water again, he still felt like an idiot. To his knowledge, he had not been the source of her shower tears since the first night he learned of them, but he was sure that many a petty fight and many a stupid comment of his had disappeared down a drain. He wiped his cheeks dry and sat up when the water stopped.

All he had wanted was for her to take his hand – and his whole life, too – anything to help her, but just his hand as a start. She couldn't even do that as they walked into their hotel room earlier that night. She had spent the better half an hour in the cradle of her grandmother's arms in that little church. Sam sat beside her, awkwardly trying to find something, anything to do for her and failing incredibly. The most he was able to do was wrap an arm around her waist and guide her back to the rental car when she told Mamma that she was too exhausted to go over the matriarch's house for a late dinner. So, once he made it off the mountain safely, he stopped at a McDonald's, convinced her to eat something and took them back to the hotel; each event sprinkled with interjections of "You okay, babe?" and "You alright, honey?" and "Do you need anything, sugar?"

He was tired of seeing her tired smile or hearing that soft, "I'm fine," muttered as she stared out the window or down at the fingers twisting in her lap. As soon as they got into their room, she set her barely touched chicken sandwich on a table and prepared herself for a shower. He was an idiot.

But he had to fix this. His future father-in-law's words were floating through his mind, practically screaming to be acknowledged and heeded. He loved Mercedes and she deserved someone who could be there when she needed him. He was going to be that man, now and for the rest of their lives.

He watched her carefully as she walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel that she criticized the size of and dug around her suitcase, humming softly.

"You're so beautiful, baby," he said suddenly and had to stop from laughing at her when jolted straight up and dropped a corner of the towel. She didn't look at him as she gather the little towel around herself again, didn't even recognize what he said with a nod or a smile, so he repeated, "You're so beautiful, baby. I'm an idiot."

He knew, he just knew what those words did to her, what memories it resurrected. He just wanted to give her a little reminder; he never forgot that horrible half an hour when he was nineteen and, years later, he was not going to let her forget the half an hour that passed just now. "We're going to talk about this."

She shook her head and slipped her nightdress over her head. "I'm tired."

"I don't care. We need to talk and we won't have the time to tomorrow morning."

"You can't make me talk, Sam," she informed him as she sat on the end of the bed and rubbed lotion on her legs and arms with her back to him.

"Well, unless you go downstairs and get yourself another room, I can make you listen to me." She turned to frown at him, but he only smiled cockily from where he sat, leaning on the headboard. Anger scrunched her nose and creased her forehead.

"What, Sam? What do you have to say? My grandfather just died – what could you possibly say that will make me feel better or make me stop mourning?"

He sighed and moved to crawl to the end of the bed, but she abruptly stood and moved back to her suitcase. "That. That right there," he snapped, waving his hand at her as she glared at him, bewildered. "I'm not asking you to stop mourning, I'm asking you to let me comfort you."

Her frown grew deeper, an incredible sight to him because he had no idea it could get any worse. "I don't need y –"

"If you complete that sentence, 'Cedes, I don't know what I'm going to do," he admitted. He set his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Without looking at her, despite the heat of her stare, he continued, "I'm going to be your husband. I'm _your man_. Please respect me as such."

The look of furious shock that erupted over her features almost scared him enough to jump out the window – the only reason he didn't was because he was too sure that he would survive the drop from the second floor. Instead, he stilled himself at the edge of the bed as his fiancé marched towards him with her arms crossed over her chest. Her scowl barely moved as she asked, "Excuse me? I don't respect you as a man now?"

He wanted to stand, but he stopped himself so she wouldn't think he was trying to intimidate her with his height. Mercedes, however, had no qualms of using her slight height advantage, even if she was only a little taller than him when he was sitting. If he wasn't scared to death, it would have been cute.

"I didn't say that. I know good and well that you know I'm a man." He took a deep breath and shook the thought of _'I know you know I'm a man? I'm stupid,'_ out of his head. "I meant… I feel disrespected by you – as _your man_, your future husband! – when you don't let me do what I'm supposed to do."

She crossed her arms and asked, tightly, "What don't I let you do?"

"You don't let me take care of you."

"I'm a big girl. _I don't need you_ to take care of me," she said mechanically, as if she had stated the words a million times before. His heart clenched as the statement sunk in. They had been together since they were eighteen… He just shook his head.

"I know that you don't _need_… Dammit!" He threw his hands up in defeat when she rolled her eyes and turned back to her suitcase. He yanked his shirt off with a growl then crawled into bed, tossing the covers over his head with another growl.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked ten minutes later, after she had crawled into bed. Her chin was perched on his shoulder and she was looking at him with little puppy dog eyes. It almost took everything in him to shake her off and say, "No, I'm frustrated with you."

She sighed. "Why?"

He sat up again with a tired huff of air. "I… I _understand_ that you don't need a man. I understand how important a woman's inde – Well, I guess I don't really understand it as a woman would, but I get that independence is important to women." He chanced a glance at her and blushed when she stared back at him blankly. "I'm rambling?" She nodded slowly. "Well… try to keep up, then." He flashed a smile at her after she snorted and continued, "When I say that you need me, I don't mean it to be a financial thing or a mental or… I guess it's emotional. We're in a relationship, right?" She nodded again. "So, no matter how independent we are, we still are together. There's still some kind of dependence – like a back and forth. I take care of you and you take care of me, emotionally."

Mercedes looked as if she was holding in a yawn, so he quickly asked, "Do you remember when my father died?"

"Yes," she mumbled, her hand automatically reaching out to thread its fingers with his own.

He squeezed her hand and grinned. "See, this right here. You're comforting me, just like you did when he died. You're taking care of me, making things feel better…"

"Sam…"

"Why won't you let me do this for you?" She tried to pull her hand away, but he followed her motion and pushed himself to her side of the bed. She pouted as he coiled his arms around her middle, but didn't try to wiggle out of them. "Do you have any idea how I feel when I hear you crying in the shower?"

Her silent breathing hitched loudly, so he tightened his grip on her.

"I feel like… I feel like why do I even have shoulders if she's just going to cry in the shower?"

"Oh God, Sam," she gasped, pushing her face against his chest. "I just don't wanna worry you. I'm sorry."

A few kisses passed from his lips to her forehead and he held one there as he attempted to calm his heart. Her tears always put his body in panic mode, but she didn't need to know that. "Baby… 'Cedes, look at me, baby." She turned her face up to his and he smiled into those chocolate eyes brimmed with tears. "I love you. I'm your fiancé… your man, right? If I see that you're carrying burdens and if I can do anything to lessen your load, I'm gonna do that, but you have to let me."

She shook her head, causing a few of her tears to splash against his bare skin. He reached up to wipe her cheek, but she flinched away. With a frown, he made a point of cupping her face and wiping the tears away with his thumbs as he looked straight into her eyes. Again, she said, "I don't want to worry you."

"What does that mean, baby? Did you feel like I was worrying you or being a bother when you took care of me in high school or college?" She closed her eyes tightly and shook her head. "Then what?"

"S-Sam," she sniffled. "I d-don't wanna t-talk about this."

He only stroked her cheeks with his thumbs again. "I'm sorry, sugar, but we need to. Why won't you let me comfort you?"

"You know I k-keep to myself, m-mostly."

"Okay, then why was Mamma the one to hold you in the church?"

The affronted expression on her face made Sam felt like he was attacking her. "I… You held me!"

"For about two minutes and then your parents came and you ran into your mother's arms. Then you cried on your grandmother for a half hour!"

"Well, I'm sorry I wasn't distributing my grief equally, Sam!"

He gritted his teeth. "I'm not – Why can't you accept me consoling you – even at home – but the woman you haven't… Why can Mamma make you feel better, but I can't?"

"She's –" She gulped the rest of her words suddenly and looked up at him, a slight panic lighting her eyes.

"She's what? She's what, Mercedes?" He bit the inside of his mouth when she hid her eyes from him behind her hand. "She's family? Is that it? I'm not family? I'm in love with you and I'm going to marry you, but I'm not family?"

"No, Sammy…"

"Do you not trust me with your feelings?"

Her tears before were nothing compared to the raw sobs bursting from her now. "I'm sorry." He pulled her into his lap and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Her hot tears burned a trail of shame down his chest. "I'm so sorry! I love you so much! I never meant to-to make you f-feel… I'm s-s-sorry!"

"No baby, I'm sorry. I shoulda… Shit." He was an idiot.

oO0Oo

It pained him that his pride had her waking up with red eyes the next morning.

They didn't say much to each other as they got ready that morning. The silence, for once, did not bother him; he was far more concerned with what could have been said rather than what was. She didn't even need to tell him how to get to the church because her father had told him the night before.

She was rustling through her purse for something when he parked the car, so he decided to get out and open her door for her. Suddenly she was hugged around his middle tight, her sweet cheek pressed against his chest, her fingers gliding along the nape of his neck.

"I love you, baby," she whispered, turning her face up for a kiss.

"I love you, too." The kiss was a slow and perfect press of lips that made him grateful to be in this woman's life. He was so lucky.

They walked into the church hand in hand and, much like at the wake, they queued up to see the casket.

"This is Sam, Granddaddy," she whispered when they reached the front of the church. Her tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she didn't wipe at them, couldn't because she was holding Sam's hand with each of hers. "I'm sorry you couldn't meet him… I'm so sorry, Granddaddy. I'm so sorry."

Once he got her to a pew, he wiped her cheeks dry with his handkerchief and pulled her into his arms, holding her throughout the entire service with a grimace on his face until Mamma turned in her seat and whispered, loudly, that Mercedes should get up and sing. So he let her go and he felt like an even bigger idiot for demanding so much of her the night before when she stood and sang her song. He felt like a selfish idiot for even thinking about last night as he sat in this chapel full of grieving people. This wasn't about him.

And when Mercedes finished her song and sat down in the pew next to her grandmother, he resigned himself to that.

_Precious Lord, take my hand…_

oO0Oo

**A/N:** Yeah, so this is a three-shot now. And no, I have no idea what I'm doing. Lol! Also, if y'all noticed, I changed the rating from M to T cuz there's enough sexy times going on in other stories of mine. But if you really need the smut, y'all can leave me prompts for oneshots if you want. Next chapter whenever. Promise that it will be happier and the family will be there. _**–DMH**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** So a little more about the family and Mercedes' relationship with them is revealed in this chapter. It's a little different from the previous ones, but I hope it puts everything in better perspective. _**–DMH**_

oO0Oo

It took two hours to snake their long line of mourning through the city and up a mountain so they could bury Mercedes' grandfather.

Sam hadn't even realized that there had been so many people in the church. The funeral procession seemed to be gaining cars as if people had realized who the man in the hearse was and decided to deter grocery shopping for another day. So much family, so many friends. Granddaddy was well-loved. Sam said this aloud to Mercedes, as a kind of assurance, but it only came out as softly spoken, empty words in the end. In response, she merely nodded and fiddled with the hand of his she had taken away from the gear stick.

But she clung to his side when the casket was lowered into the ground. She cried into his shoulder, afterwards, as she sat with her feet hanging out of their car's passenger door and while he kneeled in the dirt in front of her.

"It's okay," he tried to tell her, but she wasn't having it.

"It's not. I was horrible!" she sobbed, growing hysterical in a way that frightened him. "My granddaddy! I can't –"

A wild scream – hollow and dry, like it had been left in the sun all day – tore out of her throat, so he pulled her to the ground with him, cradled her in his lap, whispered to her about how much her grandfather loved her. And despite all her protests to the latter, she calmed in his arms and let him wipe her wet cheeks dry.

"I'm sorry." She reached up to wipe his tears away, but he took her hand with his and brought it to his lips. "Sam, I love you."

"I love you, too, honey. I love you so much." He kissed the tip of her nose before nuzzling it with his. "Let's get up before your family thinks I'm crazy or not taking care of you right."

"Look what you did to your slacks! _Sam_," she chided, reaching down to dust his knees off as soon as they straightened.

"Everything alright over there?" Sam turned to see Mercedes' parents – both red-eyed from their own tears and wearing concerned expressions – and he gave a short nod to the doctor.

"Everything's just fine, sir."

"It is not! Look at your pants!" Isaiah smiled as his daughter fussed over her fiancé and gave the other man a nod before steering his wife to their own car.

"Baby! Mercy baby!" This time, Mamma was calling the attention of the pair as a few of the Jones men attempted to help her into the passenger seat of an old station wagon. She shooed them away and beckoned Mercedes to her. Unsure of what to do, Sam just stood awkwardly beside the rental as he watched her gather Mercedes into her arms again and whisper a few things into her ear. Before long, the women had exchanged kisses on the cheek and Mercedes helped her grandmother into the car with a bright smile. A smile that stayed on her face even as she returned to Sam and snuggled into his arms.

"Mamma insists that we come over for dinner tonight. Everyone will be there, so they can all get to know you."

His brows lifted in surprise at her sudden eagerness for family bonding. "You sure?"

"Yup. It's time for you to get to know my family… and for me to get reacquainted with them."

oO0Oo

Somehow, after dinner, three of Mercedes' cousins – Ant, Morgan and Aldis – had convinced him to join a game of Spades. Just a friendly game the three had assured him as they grinned like sharks. Mercedes knew he was intimidated by the other men, but she pushed him in their direction with a kiss and a pat on the butt. And, in less than an hour, he had a cigar hanging out the side of his mouth, a beer sloshing around in the hand not holding cards and was yelling at the top of his lungs at Aldis – another of Uncle Early's kids who had the same chocolate complexion of his sister and looked like a younger, thinner version of Mercedes' father – who also happened to be his partner.

"How did we lose all those books? You said you had a bullet!"

Aldis tossed his hands up defensively. "Hey. I said I had a bullet. _A _bullet. As in one. I thought you were the one making the high bids 'n shit."

"I can't even believe you," sighed Sam as a cackling Morgan and Ant took the last of the tricks. "Who the hell says 'bullet' if you can't do a damn thing with it? Your vernacular is killing me."

"Says the dude whose accent fucks up the word 'vernacular'," Aldis countered and Sam threw his head back and laughed.

Before he could respond, familiar warm arms wrapped around his neck from behind and a soft kiss landed on his forehead. He opened his eyes to find Mercedes smiling down at him, ever the angel. "See, I told you that you'd have fun."

He scrunched up his nose at her. "Did you bring me another beer, woman?"

She tapped his chest with the cold Heineken in her hand before letting go of him and walking around his seat. He took the beer while she plopped down in his lap and stuck her tongue out at her cousins. "Who's winning?"

"Certainly not your man," Ant sniggered and Mercedes had the nerve to join him in laughter. Laughter than ended abruptly in a squeak when Sam pinched Mercedes' behind. The woman jumped out of his lap, smacked him on the arm playfully and scoffed at him, her face jokingly offended, as she left the room.

"Thank you for the beer, baby!" Sam called after her, smiling as the other men laughed at him. All except Morgan.

Morgan, of the many, many cousins, siblings, nieces and nephews, looked the most like Mamma. His skin was the color of golden summer wheat and he even had the same cinnamon freckles Sam had noticed on Mamma's cheek when he last kissed it. But Morgan's eyes were not at all like Mamma's nor Mercedes'. They were a light hazel that could hold a sharpness in them, but as Sam met the other man's gaze, he felt no urge to back away from the challenge those eyes offered.

"What's up, man? Speak your mind," he invited after a sip from his bottle and Morgan gave him a slow, accessing look up and down before plastering a smile on his face.

"I was just wondering about you and Mercy."

"What about me and Mercy?" Sam asked, trying his best to keep his tone light, but one glance across the table at the apprehension on Aldis' face was enough to let him know that he failed.

"Are you with her because she's black?"

"Aww, Jesus," Ant sighed, tossing his cards on the table and crossing his arms. "Seriously, Morgan?"

"Look, that's my little cousin. I gotta ask these things. You know white dudes is weird with that shit – always fetishsizing our women's bodies." Morgan glared at Sam as if daring him to defy his words.

"Oh God," came the collective groan of Ant and Aldis, but Sam only shook his head and smiled warmly at the two. Then he turned to Morgan and was extra careful not to let his smile to grind into a grimace.

"Do I like that Mercedes is black? Yes. I like everything about Mercedes, I love everything that makes her Mercedes," he said, staring into those cool, sharp eyes with a coolness of his own. "But I'm not with her because she's black just like she's not with me because I'm white. We don't _fetishsize_ each other – we may share a few fetishes, but that's not one of them. And I don't think you want me to get into specifics about that." He downed the rest of his beer, put his cigar out and rose from the table as the other three men sat in different stages of silence; Aldis and Ant were attempting to keep in their laughter while Morgan seemed to be holding back an outburst of whatever emotion was turning his face so red. "Welp, I'm done. Fun game, but I think I'll go find my fiancé now."

He found her in a room filled mostly with her female cousins, curled up in a cushioned seat in a bay window and sipping a glass of sweet tea. She looked surprised to see him when he cuddled next to her. "What about your game?"

"I'm just being a sore loser." She seemed to accept his brush off and turned back to the rather animated conversation her cousin Cookie was having with an older gentleman Sam hadn't met. As usual, Mercedes distracted him by just sitting there quietly and being beautiful, so Sam just had to lower his face to the crook of her neck. "Mmm, you smell like honeysuckle."

"What are you, a bloodhound?" she giggled, tilting her head so he could better nuzzle her soft skin.

"What?"

"I was sitting out by the honeysuckle for like ten minutes and you can smell it on me with your bloodhound nose."

He chuckled with her and wrapped his arms around her soft middle. "I bet I can taste it on you, too."

"What are you two lovebirds doing in the corner over there?" someone shouted suddenly and Mercedes buried her face in Sam's chest to shield her embarrassment. Sam only smiled at everyone looking in their direction.

"I was just telling her how much I love being around the wonderful Jones family."

"Right!" Aldis laughed as he entered the room, Ant, Morgan, Alexus and Uncle Early following close behind him. "Look at y'all all cuddled up."

"Making a show of it?" Alexus asked, her voice as saccharine as the sweetener in Mercedes' cup.

His fiancé glared at her, but Sam said, just as sweetly, "I'm sure you wouldn't notice if you weren't always looking over here." His smile widened when hers fell.

Swooping her long dark hair over one of her shoulders, Alexus started, "I'm always looking –" but was interrupted by her brother.

"Don't do it," Aldis warned, directing his sister to a seat with a gentle hand on her arm. "He already got Morgan. I don't need to feel anymore secondhand embarrassment."

Mercedes looked up at Sam quizzically, but he only shook his head and murmured, "Nothing to worry about. Morgan just had an opinion about my motives for dating his black cousin. Guess he was feeling some type of way about it."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, baby. That's like when Cookie asked me why I was with a white boy twenty minutes ago."

Cookie flushed and held her hands up. "Everyone was wondering!"

"Yeah," Lexus chimed in, crossing her skinny legs. "Did you have to give up on black men or something?"

Mercedes shrugged out of Sam's arms and looked two seconds from pouncing on the other woman. She growled, "Alexus…"

"You know I'm just playing, cuz. I luh you, girl."

"Izzy and Early Jones' two girls back together again!" the booming voice of Uncle Early laughed, already heavily-laden with beer. He waved his bottle in the air as if to announce to anyone who was unaware of his state. "Mercy and Lexus, back together again! The perfect ten!"

A few chuckles rang out in the room, mostly from male cousins and Early of course, but the loudest laugh came from a rather smug looking Alexus, which made Sam frown heavily.

He turned to his fiancé and his scowl deepened when he saw the look of discomfort on her face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Mercedes was already up out of her seat and hurrying out of the room. He made his excuses and shot out of the room after her.

She was just in the hall that led to the open front door, leaning her shoulder against the wall. Her arms were wrapped around her middle and, as he approached her, he could hear the gentle inhale and exhale of the calming breaths she took.

"Talk to me, honey."

"I'm tired."

"You wanna go back to the hotel?"

"What time is it?" His watch told them that it was a little after midnight, so she nodded and took his hand to lead him into another room. It was a small sitting room where Mamma and a few of the other older relatives sat, watching or falling asleep in front of an old television set. They said their goodbyes – Sam said it several times because Mamma was still charmed by his accent – and after planting a kiss on each of the matriarch's cheeks, the couple left.

In the car, Mercedes sang along to an old country song, one Sam had taught her and he smiled at the memory. A soft tug on his ear caught his attention, "What?"

"What are you thinking about? Smiling like that?" she asked.

"You."

"Okay, good."

oO0Oo

Once back at the hotel, Sam yanked all his clothes off, flopped facedown onto the bed and waited for his woman to join him. Twenty minutes later, he was awoken by a peppering of kisses along and between his shoulder blades. He gave a shudder of pleasure and turned over so that those kisses could be placed on his chest. Using a finger to trace along the silk of her headscarf, he asked, "What are you doing?"

"Waking you up."

"I see, but why?"

Mercedes laid her cheek against his chest with a sigh. "You know what your mother says about truth being like the sun?"

"'You can shut it out for a time, but it ain't going away,'" he replied with a nod. "You wanna talk to me about something?"

"Yes," she whispered and his heart ached at how broken, tired it sounded. "I've been… trying all day. Did you notice?"

"Trying to talk to me?"

"Trying to be open with you."

"I noticed."

"And I noticed that you haven't…"

"Been badgering you all day?"

She laughed and hid her face in his chest. Her smile was pressed against his heart and he could feel the warmth of it seeping into his skin and collecting there. "Your words, not mine."

"Whatever." He wanted to hold onto his own smile, but he could already feel it slipping away. The subject of their conversation weighed more than the soft cheek rubbing the skin over his heart. Mercedes was right – they needed to get this off of their chests. With a sigh, he prodded, "So we've both been trying?"

"Yeah… and I'm sure you're wondering about what happened at Mamma's house. I'm grateful that you didn't ask about it, but not talking about it is not going to make it go away." She took a deep breath as her eyes began to water. Sam hurriedly sat up and pulled her up with him, into his lap, so he could continue to cuddle her against his chest. She wrapped her arms tight around his middle and cuddled him back before admitting, "I don't know how to begin."

"How about with what Early said to upset you?"

"Um… That 'perfect ten' comment, it just really brought me back." He slid a hand under her nightshirt and massaged the skin of her lower back with his thumb as he waited for her to continue. "Me and Lexus were very tight when we were little. Whenever we saw each other, we were inseparable, mostly because everyone said we look like twins. We were the same height, size… _everything_ when we were seven. But then we started to grow – her up and me out and… that's when they started calling us the Perfect Ten. It was just a mean little joke, just teasing from the family and I usually can ignore that kinda thing, but I haven't heard it in so long." There were tears in her voice, overwhelming it, so she had to pause and take a few deep breaths before continuing. "And it kinda just hit me, you know, with Alexus sitting there, being everything that I'm not."

"A bitch?" It just slipped out and she giggled, so he was glad.

"_Sam_… I meant tall and thin. Like all the other Joneses. I know you've noticed that I don't look like them. I take after my mother's side of the family."

"Mercedes," he began, but she interrupted him with a shake of her head.

"I know what you're going to say and I know I'm beautiful, but the acceptance of that beauty took years for me grow into. I'm good at looking confident, but sometimes it just gets me, you know?" He nodded and she smiled a secret at him, a secret of kindred spirits, before kissing his lips tenderly. "I know you know. And I know you hate feeling like an oddball. That's what I feel like around them… Well, it's what I felt like. I'm much more comfortable around them now." Suddenly, her eyes watered and a hiccup of a cry left her throat. He gathered her closer and rocked them slowly back and forth.

"What's wrong?"

"I just… I feel bad." Squeezing her eyes shut, she went on, "I spent years just… drifting away from them and resenting them for making me feel ugly – and I knew they didn't mean to make me feel that way. I knew they love me no matter what jokes were made, but I just hated feeling like their tongues were always wagging about me behind my back and it was so frustrating because I couldn't say anything! It's family! My elder relatives – you gotta respect them, you know? And your cousins that you just go along with because you know that despite all the horrible little things they say, they still love you, too."

Sobbing into his chest, she looked like a little girl, like she was seven all over again and someone had just pushed her down in the mud. "Look at me," he instructed her and when she turned those big eyes on him, he wanted nothing more than to be her protector. He couldn't help but want to pull her away from the big, bad world and kiss all her wrongs right and he was so grateful to be able to be the man she had chosen to marry, chosen to take care of her and guard her heart. He was so grateful that she trusted him. So thankful that she loved him. "I understand family drama and what it's like to… to love someone just because you're blood, but not like them. It happens all the time – especially in a family as big as yours. And that's nothing to feel guilty about, baby."

The tears that had stalled during his short speech began to well up again as she shook her head back and forth. "No. That doesn't give me the right to cut them off from my life!"

"But you didn't," Sam told her, his fingers swiping her tears away as quickly as they appeared. "They're in your life _now_. You're with them _now_."

"_Only because Granddaddy is dead!_" she croaked before she hid her face in his chest again. "I only showed my face because that man is dead."

Oh.

Sam let out a heavy sigh. Then he closed his arms around her tight and hummed made up lullabies into her hair until she was breathing halfway decent again. Every breath she exhaled still came out in a huff, but she sounded nowhere near hyperventilating as she had a moment before.

"Granddaddy was so good to me," she said softly, absently. Like a leftover thought, as if she just remembered she had the ability to voice it. "He always remembered everything, I swear… And he called me Gumdrop and he always smelled like shoe polish and leather because he was always shining his shoes. Always." She lifted her head again and smiled sadly into her fiancé's eyes. "Sam… I don't remember what his voice sounds like. Cookie told me t-that he stopped shining his shoes years ago because he had arth-arthritis. Last year, I called him to wish him Merry Christmas and someone answered the phone and said he was sleeping, so I said I would call back later." She shook her head, sniffled as pain clouded her expression. "I didn't. I forgot. I _forgot_!"

"No, baby! No… Don't do that to yourself," Sam whispered as he pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. Without meaning to and before he could stop himself, familiar words – words that had been sitting on his heart for years – flowed out of his mouth. "He loved you and he knew that you loved him, too. You know, in your heart, that if you wronged him, he'd forgive you… Please forgive yourself, baby. Please."

Mercedes inhaled sharply, a shuttering hiss, and nodded as his words – her words from years and years ago when his father had died and Sam had spent a day and a night in her lap wishing and regretting and wanting – broke through to her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby."

"Please forgive me, Granddaddy," she whispered, a rush of tension leaving her body as she collapsed again Sam.

Later, when her cheeks had dried and her voice had grown raspy and quiet, she asked Sam if he would hold her until she fell asleep. "Like you always do? Please?"

And Sam had to laugh at this because he never intended to ever let her go.

oO0Oo

**A/N:** Oh goodness! It hurt writing this! Anyway, this is going to be a four-shot and then I'm done. For real this time. Next chapter – _last_ chapter – whenever. _**–DMH**_


End file.
